


Somedays

by Rioviolina



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Gen, M/M, McLennon Fanfic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:34:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rioviolina/pseuds/Rioviolina
Summary: When you have the whole world at your feet but nothing is quite right..





	Somedays

A quiet room. Outside the noise of screaming fans. But it's muted. Distant. Another life. Sometimes you wonder....you wonder what was it all for. Was it worth it. Your life now minutely examined, every pore open to scrutiny. Nothing hidden...not easily, anyway. Public property.  
And this emptiness...like someone has cut a great hole inside you and your very being, your very self, is pouring out through that hole. Nothing can fill it. Not the drink. Not the drugs. And now, not even the music.   
The music. A few notes reminiscent of a melody that you once heard, long ago, in another time. It pulls, like an unseen string tugging at your heart. A yearning. A yearning for what? For a time long gone that cannot be ever again?   
Someone enters the room. A hand on your shoulder. It squeezes. It understands. It's been there. There's a spattering of freckles on the back of the hand. A few tiny hairs, reddish in the filtered light that comes through the net curtains.  
"Paul?"  
Someone says your name gently, a question.  
Tears are streaming down your face. You can't stop them. It's as if someone has unlocked a dam and they are free to fall, uninhibited by any action you can produce. You feel detached. They're not part of you anyway. They don't represent how you feel. They are not tragic enough. They are too quiet. Silent tears.  
You want to howl. You want to scream and shout and wail to the heavens. Yet you don't know why. God forbid anyone should ask you what is wrong. You don't know what is wrong. It's just not...right. You should be happy. You're twenty three years old with the world at your feet. So why do you feel like this? Why? Why?   
There are hands under your arms, pulling you up onto your feet. Pulling you into an embrace. You let your head drop onto a familiar shoulder that smells of whisky and cigarettes and home. Home. Your breath is coming in shuddering gasps. There can be nothing of you left. Surely your emotions have washed you away with your tears.   
If it was anyone else you'd be embarrassed. But with this person you don't have to hide your feelings. You can be yourself. And if being yourself is an emotional meltdown that no one would ever imagine you capable of, so be it.   
Someone smooths your hair.  
Someone murmurs that everything will be alright.  
It will be alright. You know that.  
This is just a blip.  
It happens.  
It happens far more often than anyone realises.  
Except John.  
It happens to him too.  
For no reason.   
And then it's your turn to hold.  
To say that everything will be alright.  
To soothe.   
To murmur.  
To the toppermost of the poppermost.  
And you smile through your tears.  
It's what we worked so hard for.  
What happened to those two boys?  
They got the world and discovered that, maybe, after all, it wasn't worth it.  
They already had the world in each other.  
Now who can give them that back again?


End file.
